Toxic
by Padawan AngelinaDaisey
Summary: Anakin is Breaking. Away from Padme, trapped in an unforgiving Temple and with a Master who seemingly doesn't care, Paranoia, Anger and Confusion become a deadly mixture (Darkening Ani Post Ep 2, Pre Ep 3 [?] fic) Non Slash. FINAL CHAPTER FINALLY UP! yay!
1. Gluttony

Introductory chapter: Gluttony.  
  
waves Hello to you all here on Fanfiction.net! This is my longest solo written fanfic I've posted, like, ever. I usually write silly 'icle vignettes that leave everyone scratching their heads and going 'huh?' but, enjoy this. Actually, you might go 'huh?' with this as well (I named the introductory chapter, for Force's sake).  
  
It's a Post AoTC, Pre Ep3, which means there WILL BE DARK ANAKIN IN IT, but not that dark. Remember, this is not my idea of what is going to happen in Ep 3, and I hope to God, the Force, Yoda in a pink bikini, WHATEVER, that Our dear Lord Lucas does not read this and get inspired.  
  
Just to let you know, I'm putting a huge Authors Note in the beginning, so the story flows without me rambling at the beginning of each chapter.  
  
This whole story is dedicated to Master Eljay, my best friend and Jedi Master. You have inspired me to write things I never knew were ever in my feeble, procrastinating mind and I am eternally greatful for all the help, all the encouragement and all the love you have given me. You are a credit to the Jedi order, and I am phenomenally proud to be known as your Padawan. Also, kudos to her for thinking up the name for the fic. claps  
  
This is also to be known as a little hello and thank you to Arldetta for her lovely e-mail to me after I simply commented on her awesome writing prowess.  
  
Because I can't format things properly here is a key for you:  
  
writing denotes sounds written phonetically (eg. Vader breathing) ~writing~ denotes personal thoughts; internal monologue. //writing// is speech across a Master/Padawan training bond {writing} denotes a vision  
  
Confused? I hope so. It's pretty clear what's what, and I have the uttermost faith in the extent of your cognitive powers.  
  
Obviously, none of this belongs to me. Not even Anakin's leather trousers, damnit. George is great, George is good, Alleluia. All praise the most almighty Lucas.  
  
Right, I think that's all I want to say, so have lots of Fun, all. Onwards to chapter 1: Sloth. 


	2. Sloth

Toxic Chapter 1: Sloth  
  
There is nothing. Just a gray eternity, distant yet close. Then, like a fuzzy holovid player, shapes emerged and faded, increasing in clarity each time. Suddenly, a noise.  
  
huurum shoom  
  
Breathing, heavy and mechanized. Labored. Painful.  
  
~Who's breathing?~  
  
No Answers. Then, the images snapped into focus. A life, in snatches of emotion. Memory, Present, Prophesy. Helplessly intermingled, impossibly blended, horribly joined.  
  
Innocence, Purity.  
  
A mother, Shimi, laying cool cloths onto the back of a small, trembling, blonde-haired boy, soothing whip welts.  
  
~Mommy~  
  
Begging, borrowing, stealing mechanical parts to build a Podracer. The fastest ever built, in fact.  
  
huurum shoom  
  
Rescue, relief, victory, apprehension. Devastation.  
  
"You will be a Jedi, I promise."  
  
Beautiful Queens, Chocolate eyes, Bright Futures.  
  
~Was that all really ten years ago?~  
  
hurrum shoom  
  
Majestic Temples, New Faces, New Life. Calm Aquamarine eyes. Wisdom. Seemingly emotionless. Serene.  
  
~My Master~  
  
Peace, The Force.  
  
hurrum shoom  
  
Rapidly approaching Darkness. Horror, Fear  
  
Wrongful, Unfair death.  
  
Revenge. The Dark Side.  
  
Pain, Suffering, Anguish.  
  
hurrum shoom  
  
~I don't like this dream anymore, I want to wake up~  
  
Age, Power, Respect. All the answers, none of the questions.  
  
~Who is that breathing? I want to wake up~  
  
hurrum shoom  
  
Midnight-hued Masks.  
  
~I want to wake up~  
  
hurrum shoom  
  
Swirls of black leather and dark fabrics.  
  
~I want to wake up~  
  
hurrum shoom  
  
Running a scarlet lightsaber blade through his Master.  
  
~Please let me wake up~  
  
hurrum shoom  
  
Enjoying it.  
  
~Help me~  
  
"ANAKIN!"  
  
+++++++  
  
"ANAKIN!" The cry came again. Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Padawan, attempted to sit bolt straight up in his bed, keeping his eyes firmly closed in fear of what might bee seen. He cried out in desperation as he realised he could not sit up; there were two strong arms pinning his shoulders to the bed. "Anakin, wake up, please," the voice begged. Anakin ceased his struggles and felt relief flood his half-sleeping body. Snapping his eyes open he stared deep into the expressive, worried orbs of his Master, who was leaning over him.  
  
"Master!" Anakin cried, surprised. "What are you doing?" He wriggled away from Obi-Wan's grip on his shoulders, and desperately tried to wipe the dream from his mind. Obi-Wan continued to survey him carefully.  
  
"You were screaming in your sleep, begging for someone to help you. I couldn't let you carry on dreaming such a dream that would give you so much anguish," he answered carefully. "I was worried for you."  
  
"It was just a nightmare, Master," Anakin stated, sitting up and leaning against the headboard to his sleep-couch." Obi-Wan sighed and sunk on to the edge of the bed and run a hand through his hair before leaning forward and resting his head into his hands. He suddenly looked very tired.  
  
"I know, Ani," he murmured gently. "But I just don't ever want to see you in such pain again." Anakin had no response. He gazed to the other side of the bed, keeping his line of sight away from that of his Master's. He noticed that there was a chair positioned to the side of him, and a rapidly discarded book lying on the floor.  
  
"You were here all night, weren't you?" It was not a question. Obi- Wan looked up sharply.  
  
"Yes." He stood and walked over to the door, graceful and poised as always, where he turned and looked back at the young man. "I was worried about you. You haven't had a decent night's sleep in such a long time. I'm there to help you, though, if you need it." Anakin simply looked at him in return. Obi-Wan offered a small smile. "I'll make some breakfast for us. Be ready in half an hour." With that he swept out the door.  
  
Anakin looked out after him wistfully, before flopping back onto the bed.  
  
++++++  
  
As a rule, Obi-Wan never whistled. Or sang. But on this morning, he was doing both as Anakin slid gracelessly yet silently into a chair, forty- five minutes later. Anakin didn't recognise the tune, but he liked it anyway. Obi-Wan paused to check on something cooking over a flame and was rewarded with an enthusiastic round of applause. Spinning round, he held the look of a startled rabbit for a few moments before restoring his Jedi calm.  
  
"Oh," he said impassively, "I didn't see you there, Anakin"  
  
"Bravo, Master! Excellent!" Anakin positively beamed at his Master's discomfort. "So, am I in the presence of the newest member of the Jedi choir then?" Obi-Wan's eyes flashed.  
  
"They wish."  
  
Anakin's rare laughter filled the kitchen area. Obi-Wan reached over and unceremoniously dumped a very appetising plate of food in front of Anakin.  
  
~I'm starving~ Anakin noted briefly. He hadn't eaten a proper meal for ages. Worry had stopped him before and deep grief after that. And then those wonderful days with Padme . . .  
  
"So, are you sure your ready to go back to classes today?" Obi-Wan's question shook Anakin out of his memories. He gave a charming but pained smile in return before answering.  
  
"I'm very sure. I've probably missed almost everything already set this term. I'll never catch up otherwise." Anakin began the huge task of devouring the mountain of food in front of him. Obi-Wan watched him, sipping on a large bowl-like mug of a black, aromatic liquid that the pair had discovered while on a mission to a far planet. Anakin couldn't stand the bitter taste, but Obi-Wan obviously loved it. The intense scrutiny of those huge stormy eyes over the rim eventually stopped Anakin's quest to finish the mound of food. "What?"  
  
"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Obi-Wan pressed, setting down the mug carefully. Anakin sighed.  
  
"I'll be fine, Master. Stop worrying about me, I'm not a little kid anymore" He placed down his fork and regarded Obi-Wan seriously. "I'm nearly old enough for the trials myself now." A ghost of a smile flittered across Obi-Wan's features briefly.  
  
"Nearly being the operative word. And, until then, It is my official duty to worry about you, and I'm not going to fail the tradition." With that, he picked up the mug again. Opposite on the table, Anakin sighed over- dramatically and re-claimed his fork.  
  
~It's only because he knows you're already better than him. You're the more powerful Jedi~ a little voice in Anakin's head whispered. Anakin paused, shocked for an instant, his prosthetic arm held stiffly. ~Where in the seven levels of Sith Hell did that come from?~ His rational mind pondered. Across, Obi-Wan noticed his hesitation, but translated it for something else.  
  
"What is it, Ani? Is you arm uncomfortable? Do you feel sick?" Obi- Wan deposited the mug again and sped round to Ani, laying his hand on his forehead and gently probing Anakin's mind through the bond.  
  
//Ani? Are you alright?// Obi-Wan called telepathically. Involuntarily, Anakin felt his mind shields smash down, silencing the communication. To cover the slip he opened his eyes and smiled apologetically at the Knight.  
  
"Sorry, Master. I was caught up in my own thoughts. And I guess I'm just a little tired still." Anakin held Obi-Wan's gaze impassively. Apprehensive, the older Jedi removed his hand from Anakin's head slowly. Anakin, in all honestly was slightly sorry for the loss. It was mid way through Coruscant's orbit, and blistering hot and Obi-Wan's hands were blissfully cold.  
  
"But, you're sure your arm's not causing you any pain? Is it working well?" Obi-Wan pressed. Anakin rolled his eyes.  
  
"Well, I was kind've attached to my old one, Y'know, but I'm getting used to it; it's fine." He grinned at Obi-Wan, who returned it with a fleeting smile. Anakin picked up a glass of bright green fruit juice and went to take a sip.  
  
hurrum shoom  
  
The memory of the mechanized breathing from his dream sliced through Anakin's skull. He felt the glass slip from his fingers and dimly realised that it had shattered on the floor. Focus rushed back to him and he gasped. Obi-Wan was by his side instantly, supporting him, but he stood quickly and sped to get absorbent toweling before Obi-Wan had a chance to probe his mind properly.  
  
"No, It's alright, Ani. I'll do that. You go to bed, I'll tell your tutors that you won't be into your classes today. Don't worry yourself, Anakin." Obi-Wan reasoned, beginning to pick up some of the broken shards of glass on the floor.  
  
"No!" Anakin yelled instantly. He stalked over to Obi-Wan and, unconsciously, showed him hard. Unprepared for the attack, and not forewarned by the Force, Obi-Wan stumbled backwards, the action causing glass he had already picked up to slice into his palms. "Stop being so over protective of me! And never talk about my visit to Naboo; it's absolutely, unquestionably none of your business," Anakin snapped angrily. He stopped abruptly, as his mind caught up with his mouth suddenly. He turned wide, horrified eyes towards Obi-Wan expecting anger, annoyance. Or, worst of all, disappointment. But yet, there were no signs of emotion on Obi-Wan's face as he looked back. "Oh, Master, I . . ."  
  
"Keep your anger in check. I'm sorry I enquired. I will leave you to finish your breakfast and then you will go to your classes. Do you understand me, Padawan?" Obi-Wan's tone was short, clipped, emotionless, but Anakin didn't fail to miss the change in title he gave him. He winced slightly.  
  
"Yes Master." He gave the standard reply in the regular way, and watched as his Master walked across the main living area. "Master, I'm . . ."  
  
"Just go to class, Padawan." Obi-Wan cut him off with a heavy voice. Anakin was glad he couldn't see the emotion in his eyes.  
  
~Well done, Anakin. You're doing brilliantly in your quest to drive away the one person on your side in the temple~ he thought to himself. A small chuckle sounded in his mind.  
  
~Yeah, well. He deserved it.~ 


	3. Jealousy

Toxic Chapter 3: Envy  
  
Anakin hated the silence that surrounded him. Not that the Temple was ever the nosiest place on Coruscant, but the hush that now sped up and down the large halls was depressingly eerie to the Padawan as he made his way to his third class of the day. Over one hundred Jedi had passed into the Force after the battle on Geonosis, and their presence was sorely missed.  
  
The Temple's code called for a certain refined quiet, but it was never truly silent. There was always someone to pass if you strolled down the halls, but today there were none.  
  
Anakin walked a little quicker, the silence forcing him to centre himself on his dream. What did it mean? Was that his future?  
  
~Who was that breathing?~  
  
Determined, he firmly pushed it out of his mind. ~It's just a dream, after all. It's not like it meant anything, after all . . .~  
  
Speeding down the long winding corridors that led from one part of the Temple to the other and rushing up stairs to different levels, he cursed, not for the first time, the person who set up his lesson schedule and put his first lesson in the North Tower and his second in the West Tower. He grinned slightly to himself. He was nearly there. Just a little further . . .  
  
hurrum shoom  
  
{He was looking out over the twin suns setting over Tatooine, but it was different. No, He was different. It wasn't him, just someone who looked a lot like him. And he was standing in front of a Moisture Farm, but why was that so familiar?}  
  
The breathing once again sliced through his skull, this time joined by a vision, just as he rounded the corner that led to the corridor the door to the lecture room was in. He stumbled and gripped the wall for support. Briefly, he considered calling out to his Master for help, but quickly discarded the notion, remembering how they had parted that morning.  
  
~Keep dreaming if you think he'd help you after the way you treated him earlier on~ he thought, despondent. The contradicting voice flared to life at the back of his mind again, ~True, but he did deserve it, and admit it, watching him bleed was fun . . .~ The thought was quickly squashed.  
  
Down the corridor a group of girls stood and giggled, but as soon as they saw him they fell silent and just stared. He straightened, and with head held high, walked past them. He felt eyes bore into his back as he stepped into the room, but heard them resume exited, hushed whispers as soon as he passed. Inside the room it was no different. It would usually be filled with noisy, joyful chatter and laughter, and had been so, but the moment he stepped through the door silence ruled.  
  
~What are they staring at? Do I have my clothes on the wrong way or something?~ He thought, concerned. He checked surreptitiously and, happy that everything was on the right way and done up, slid into a chair, three rows from the front. As quickly as it descended, the heavy silence lifted in a burst of noise. The teacher scurried in a few minutes later, with a large crate of holo-sets. A delighted murmur sped round the room.  
  
"Hello, Class and welcome to today's History lesson. As you know, we start a new Module today," She began, beginning to walk up and down the rows of Students, handing out the small, silver, boxes and visors with her many hands. "The Module's title is 'History of the Jedi Temple and it's relation to the Sith'."  
  
Anakin looked up quickly, interested. No-one ever willingly discussed the Sith in the Temple, unless it was to adonimish the littlest Initiates in the nurseries, in 'If you don't go straight to bed then the Sith will come and get you'. Maybe, this way, he'd get a few answers.  
  
"As I'm sure you all know, the Sith were believed to be extinct until ten years ago," she continued, handing Anakin a holo-set and giving him a sympathetic look. She paused in front of him momentarily, and gave him and apologetic smile. "When one was discovered by a Master and Padawan team on a mission to the Planet Naboo. It was subsequently killed. Today's lesson is going to be focussing on the Jedi Knight who slew the Sith, and his life. For homework today I want you to write an account of the duel from this Knight's point of view." She finished handing out the sets and returned to the front of the room. "I understand this assignment will be easier for some than others," She said with a grin directed towards Anakin, "And I have no more to say, so please start your Holo-Disks." She sat down at her desk. "Enjoy learning about Obi-Wan Kenobi, everyone."  
  
Anakin felt several pairs of eyes snap to stare at his back, but he steeled himself to ignore them, and started up his Holo-Disk. After a few seconds, a picture and some text blinked into focus in front of his eyes. He stifled a snort of laughter at some of the pictures, Obi-Wan, despite being naturally photogenic, hated having his picture taken, and most were 'candid camera' shots of him toweling off his hair after a shower and just walking round the Temple. Some of the expressions on his face were priceless. Amused, Anakin scanned through information about his Master's current life at the Temple, and brought up a three hundred and sixty five degree picture of their apartment, and took a guided tour, a silly expression on his face for the entire time.  
  
Beside him, he heard a contented, happy sigh from one of his fellow students. Pulling his visor up slightly he looked at the blinking light on her box, which told him which section of the Holo-disk she was on, and turned his own disk to the same section in interest.  
  
A picture flicked up instantly of he and Obi-Wan. Anakin paused, thoughtful. He remembered the day that this picture had been taken. It was one year after he had been taken as Obi-Wan's apprentice, and they had just been on their first mission together, to help reach an agreement between two planets in the same system, both of which thought their name for the system was the right one. The disagreement overcome quickly, the team had been invited to a huge party in the main city of the larger of the two planets.  
  
At the time of the picture, Obi-Wan had only just begun growing his hair out of the Padawan cut he was so used to, and it fell into his eyes in the kind of messy organization that Anakin always connected to his Master. The ends were slightly curled, due to his hair lacking the weight that pulled it straight like it was today, and it's golden gingery colour was picked up under the lights. He was looking over his shoulder and grinning cheekily at the camera. Anakin, on the other hand, was like an eleven-year- old idiot, showing nearly all his teeth and pulling on his Padawan braid with youthful exuberance.  
  
Anakin sighed sadly, wondering if it would ever be all right between he and his Master, after his actions that morning. He had considered it from every angle, but yet he didn't understand his own actions. It was like there was someone else controlling his mind, but that was impossible. It was just him. But yet, there was a small part of him that had delighted in watching someone so powerful reduced so something so helpless and hurt as Obi-Wan had bled from the glass shards.  
  
Shaking himself out of his reverie, he returned to looking at the information on the disk, studying the story of the battle with the Sith again, despite knowing it all already.  
  
Today was going to be a long day.  
  
++++++++ 


	4. Covetousness

Toxic Chapter 3: Covetousness  
  
Anakin's mind was made up. As soon as the teacher had uttered the words "You're dismissed," he was out the door and fleeing down the halls to the Kenobi/Skywalker Residence, fully intent on apologizing to his Mentor. In his haste, he almost didn't notice a young Initiate, sprawled out, bawling it's lungs out in the middle of the hallway.  
  
~Geez, Anakin. You must be deaf and blind to miss that~ he hissed to himself mentally. He liked kids, generally. Just not when they were screaming their heads off in his way when he was in a rush. He stopped abruptly, hoping the child hadn't seen him, and tried to conceal himself in the Force. ~Maybe I'll be able to creep past her~  
  
The girl stood up and ran towards him, arms outstretched.  
  
~Damn~  
  
He sighed and sank to his knees in front of her. Giving a soft hiccup she silenced, surveyed him carefully, deciding if he was friend or foe. In front of her, she clutched a small, humanoid doll carefully. Hopefully she took another step forward.  
  
~Joy~  
  
"Hello," he ventured. "My name's Anakin. What's yours?" The little girl continued looking at him. Anakin felt like sighing again, a lot of staring had gone on today. There was something going on in this Temple, Something about him. A rumour, probably. But that would have to wait. At the moment, he had a lost little girl to sort out and serious groveling to do to Master Obi-Wan. Meanwhile, the little initiate finally decided to end her speculation.  
  
"Mayani," came the one word answer. Despite the turbulence in his head, Anakin felt like smiling. He was getting somewhere.  
  
"That's a very pretty name, Mayani. But why are you crying?" He asked carefully, keeping his voice low and even. Her face distorted and she began wailing again, her broken words running together in one endless stream of vowels.  
  
"I pay hinsee, buno temee no go wy fro nusway tu hud un go lost!" She began to bawl again, this time even louder.  
  
~Force remind me to tell Padme I am never having kids~  
  
Anakin looked around worriedly and attempted to shush her with soothing, wordless murmurs. She allowed herself to be calmed and he smiled at her.  
  
"Now, little Mayani, would you like me to take you and your dolly back to the Initiate Centre?" He kept the smile on his face and nodded his head helpfully. She chewed on the hand of the doll and nodded with him, wide eyes hopeful under a head of mussed up hair. He returned to his feet and took her tiny hand in his. Together they walked back to the lower layer of the Temple where the Nurseries were situated. All of the way he chattered to her about any random thing that popped up into his head that might be of interest to a small girl. He was just finishing a tale about a beautiful Queen and a handsome Jedi when they came to a fork in the corridors. To the left was a room usually used for silent meditation and to the right was the beginning of the Nurseries, where they were headed. But something distracted his attention. He took a step towards the Meditation rooms, feeling a familiar presence. He was right; in the room stood Master Yoda, Master Windu and Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, deep in discussion. He exhaled sharply.  
  
As always, Master Windu wore a calm, cool expression, if not slightly tinged with sympathy. Yoda stared at the floor, ear tips drooping in sadness, leaning on his Gimmer stick heavily. The centre of attention, however was Obi-Wan, who looked livid, waving his hands about madly, clearly frustrated and angry, emotions that Anakin never saw from him. Master Windu said something, and Obi-Wan lifted his palms up, displaying wounds. Anakin's breath caught in his throat and he felt nausea bubble up his chest at the sight of the angry red slashes crisscrossing the pale skin. Tears pricked the back of Anakin's eyes and paranoia gripped him  
  
~They're talking about me~ Horror welled up in his heart and anger began to simmer dangerously. ~They're talking about me~  
  
Beside him, Mayani began to get impatient. "Aaaanaaaaakiiiiiiiiiin! What happened to the Queen and the Jedi?" She whined pathetically, tugging on his arm. He tore his eyes from the scene he witnessed through the glass panel in the door and sunk again to crouch in front of her, trying to push all emotion away.  
  
"The Queen and the Jedi?" He asked, smiling sadly. She nodded enthusiastically in return. "They lived happily ever after, of course." He wasn't sure what reaction he would get, but he was definitely sure it wouldn't be that she flung herself into his arms for a hug, as she did.  
  
"If they are so happy, why are you so sad?" She mumbled into his white tunic top. He lifted her up.  
  
"Now, who said I was sad, little Mayani?" He murmured back to her, lifting her up into his arms to take her the short distance to the nursery. She sighed happily, drifting into sleep.  
  
"Dunno, sad Anakin." With that she drifted into slumber. Glancing once more through the glass panel he dashed to the Initiate's station with the bundle.  
  
++++++++  
  
It was ten minutes later before Anakin could escape. The Head of the Initiate Centre had been so appreciative of Anakin finding the lost girl that she had insisted that he stay to hear her praise for several precious minutes Anakin knew he couldn't spare. He sped to the Meditational Rooms where he had last seen Obi-Wan, but to his dismay the Knight was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Sith," he spat, frustrated with the whole situation. He knew that when Obi-Wan had been talking to Yoda and Windu he had been complaining about him. Angry that Anakin was such an awful Padawan. Frustrated that he was unable to choose his own Padawan and was forced to have a silly over- aged boy from Tatooine as his apprentice. But, still . . .  
  
~I don't need him~ The thought flashed through Anakin's mind violently ~I'm good enough for the trials myself now. I'm a better Jedi than him. If he doesn't want me anymore, fine. I'm willing to accept that. I don't need him. I don't.~  
  
All thoughts of apology were wiped from Anakin's conscious. Obi-Wan would get his wish; Anakin would no longer be his Padawan Learner. And Anakin would be glad about it. With a face steeled and angry he stalked through the centre of the Temple, ignoring the giggles and whispers that followed him. Gradually, his pace slowed to a normal walk. Being angry would never help him, he knew that. If the man he used to call Master taught him anything, it was that. So, with a calm mind he decided to attend his next class. Spinning on his heel, his dark cloak flying around him, he took the turbo-lift to Debate Skills.  
  
Settling himself down in one of the desks he closed his eyes and attempted to meditate for a few moments, before being brought to surface by more idiotic giggling behind his back, courtesy of a small group of about three girls and two males. One of the boys slid his desk slightly forward to speak directly to Anakin.  
  
"So," He began in a copied classic Tatooine accent, "everyone knows you have an obsession with the Senator from Naboo. Rumour is that you're married and she's carrying your kid. I don't know if it's true, I don't really care. I just don't believe she'd pick you over all the eligible men in the galaxy, Metal Man." He made to move back "Oh, yeah. I wouldn't do that thing in your room without any clothes on in future. There are telescopes trained on your window." He made to move back to the place he had been in before, but Anakin stopped him, gripping him with an anger- spurred wave of the Force.  
  
"Who told you this?" He hissed dangerously. The Padawan who he had pinned began to writhe about, trying to think of an answer through a cloud of something akin to fear.  
  
"The telescopes? I don't know! I swear! It's not like I have one or anything, Anakin, I just heard from a friend of a friend who might know someone who might've had one once . . ."  
  
Anakin still refused to look at him. Instead he tightened his hold of the Force and was met with a whimper. "Who started the rumour?" There were several seconds of silence before the Padawan answered Anakin.  
  
"Paleeni." Anakin recognised the name. The Apprentice had held a grudge for Anakin ever since he had beaten him in an important lightsaber contest. It made sense. He released the other boy immediately, and moved to stand.  
  
"Thank you for your help," he said, honestly. Sliding out the chair he sped towards the door, and almost bumped into the Professor. The teacher glared at him evilly with all of his eight eyes.  
  
"And where on Coruscant do you think you're going, Padawan Skywalker?" He demanded, his voice like sandpaper over glass. "Do you have somewhere else to be?" Anakin exhaled inwardly.  
  
"Yes, Master. I do." He stepped to move around him, but the Professor did the same. "No, you don't. You are going to return to your seat and sit through this lesson." Anakin met his eyes defiantly. "Now." Anakin stalked back to his seat, as the professor began to drone on, his eyes closed.  
  
~It's only an hour, I'll make it, at least it's still a rumour, I can stop it. I'll speak to master Yoda, he can stop it. Or Master Obi-~ he stopped himself suddenly ~No, why would he help me? He doesn't even like me, and I know Yoda doesn't. I'll sort this out by myself.~  
  
"Padawan Skywalker." The annoying voice called out to him, breaking him out of his reverie. Anakin opened his eyes excruciatingly slowly. "Care to join us and give us you opinion?" The Master glared at him, and Anakin glared back.  
  
"On what?"  
  
"Well, my dear boy, if you had been listening and not on . . ." The teacher stopped and smirked "Naboo? You might've heard that the debate topic was 'Conversion to the Dark Side.' Your views?" There were titters from behind him, and Anakin began to feel his blood boil, and didn't bother dampening it.  
  
"Actually, I have a question." He stated. The teacher raised one of its eyebrows, or the tendons that looked like eyebrows, at him.  
  
"Ask away."  
  
"Why is the Dark Side so bad?" There was a horrified silence, then a flurry of whispers.  
  
"Padawan Skywalker, the Dark Side is everything that is bad and evil in this galaxy. I can't believe you would feel the need to ask such a question," The Professor barked, standing up to its full height.  
  
"But we've always been told that the Dark Side is attractive to some because of the power it holds. Surely only a good side would have that type of Power? And why should we just accept it?"  
  
"Padawan Skywalker!"  
  
"But what if the Jedi's really wrong, and this is the Dark Side? Surely, the Jedi are evil to the Sith?"  
  
"Silence, Insolent Child!"  
  
"This so called Dark Side must hold some good points, if so many can see the sense in it." Anakin leveled the Teacher, who now stood over him, fuming. A silence followed, the only sounds being the teacher's angry inhalation and exhalation of breath.  
  
Without warning, the teacher's arm swung round in a wide arc and connected solidly to the side of Anakin's head, snapping the younger man's face round and busting his lower lip. A spurt of blood erupted from his mouth and he hissed quietly in pain. The teacher, however, refused to show any remorse. Anakin's metal hand flew to his cheek, holding the abused area and he snapped his sight line back round, staring with wide eyes at the Professor.  
  
"I very much doubt you could be taught anything, so now I demand you stay away from me, and stay out of my class, lest I cut you down with my very own lightsaber, for the sake of the Galaxy," the professor told Anakin finally. Anakin gave him one final look before sweeping out the class room and down the hall. As his feet flew he gently probed the damaged cheek and wiped away the blood from his chin absently with the back of the prosthetic hand. He licked his lower lip carefully, fire coursing dark streaks through his eyes. The blood tasted bitter, sharp, unforgiving. He chuckled darkly.  
  
~Just like my life then~ He shoved a little kid out the way violently, making his way directly towards the main entrance and exit to the Jedi Temple, removing his long brown cloak and discarding it on his way.  
  
Someone was going to pay.  
  
And Anakin couldn't wait.  
  
++++++++ 


	5. Lust

Toxic Chapter 4: Lust  
  
It was only a matter of minutes before Anakin emerged into the controlled evening environment of Coruscant's mid orbit. The recycled, pumped, regulated air felt heavy and thick in Anakin's throat, and that meant one thing: rain was on the way. That thought didn't stop the young man as he stalked through the streets. He loved rain; it was pure and refreshing, it washed things away. And it was so different to sand.  
  
Anyone that passed him religiously refused to meet his eyes, but considered the rapidly darkening area on his cheek when they thought he wasn't paying attention. Anakin was used to being stared at. He knew he was reasonably good looking, as was his Master. On their own they elicited the odd curious, appreciative glance, but whenever they appeared in public as a pair, all pretence of politeness was forgotten by the people of Coruscant, and they just stared.  
  
One good-looking man was interesting. A single Jedi was fascinating. Two good-looking men were unusual. Two handsome Jedi? That was . . . well, that was an Event. But today, it was not his looks that received the glances thrown by the various species that made up Coruscant's civilian life. It was his whole demeanor; the anger, the hatred, the pulsing, twisted power that the young man exuded. It was that that prompted the public to remain a safe distance from him.  
  
Anakin strode the path his mind remembered very well, although had not traveled it often. It lead him down, down lower and lower into the highly disrespectful and Un-Jedi like lower levels of Coruscant; to the places of illegal drinks and illegal dancing in illegal atmospheres that everyone knew of but everyone chose to ignore, but yet it was the perfect destination for Anakin. He wanted to dull his pain and rejection, and heighten his anger and purpose with the grateful arms of a very pleasant if not entirely correct drink.  
  
The dull orange glow from the door of Anakin's chosen bar pulsed with an inviting warmth, and the ground beneath him bounced gently in response to the deep beet of the music inside. A wry smile flittered across his lips as he swaggered in.  
  
Inside, the air was thick with smoke, and it swirled overhead in an all-encompassing noxious cloud. It stung his eyes slightly, but it was welcome, it meant that he was still alive. He almost flew down a flight of stone steps to get to the bar and dancefloor. Every face that passed had a story; a reason for being here, but Anakin didn't care. They were his brethren; tonight, they were his family. He loved them, they loved him, it was strange and beautiful in its twisted innocence.  
  
The moment he stepped onto the floor he abandoned every Jedi moral and teaching, and just let the beat carry all his cares and worries away. All need for revenge paused and gathered its strength, waiting.  
  
Most of the denizens of the club were drawn to the young man as he danced, and he allowed their momentary love to wash over him as he danced with them. He kissed many, but they blurred into obscurity as the number rose. Male, female, human, alien. He lost all knowledge as the evening wore on. It was out of this haze he surfaced several hours later, in the corner of the club, with a girl viciously kissing him, her long brunette hair cascading down across her angular face and brushing his exposed skin, just like Padme's did in that blissful week after their wedding . . .  
  
Everything became sharper. ~Married, you're married, fool, and here you are risking it all with some cheep whore in a sleazy underground nightclub~ the voice in his mind tutted. ~What would Master Obi-Wan think?~ With renewed strength, he threw the girl off him. She lay, sprawled across the floor, smiling up at him lazily, her ruby eyes glinting mischievously.  
  
"Ooh, Baby likes it rough, does he?" she purred, leaning over to plant herself firmly on Anakin's lap again. He narrowed his eyes at her.  
  
"Go find someone else to suck the life out of, bitch," he hissed carefully at her. She sighed and spun on her heel to do just like that. Anakin let out all the breath he didn't realise he was holding in a whoosh and leaned up against the red leather seat backing. "Padme . . ." he murmured gently, closing his eyes and letting all his senses feel her synthesized presence. The smell of her hair, the sight of her smile, the feel of her curves, the sound of her laugh, the taste of her skin . . .  
  
He snapped open his eyes and searched for a drink. On the table in front of him stood an assortment of different coloured liquors, and he downed them all with a need borne of desperation. The welcome haze returned and caressed his abused mind, numbing his smarting cheek and his soul. He sighed blissfully and sinked back down into the comfort of the chair with his eyes closed.  
  
Hurrum Shoom  
  
That breathing. It was back, in his mind, slicing and numbing at the same time, hating pasts and promising futures. He slowed his breathing and opened his eyes . . . to find himself face to face with a red-faced, badly dressed pilot who carried more than a few extra pounds on his large frame. The spicy, sickening smell of second-hand alcohol assaulted his nose and he grimaced away from the man's breath. The man threw himself down by Anakin with a laugh.  
  
"S'the Jedi Brat!" he slurred, throwing an arm around Anakin's shoulders that was quickly discarded. "Washa you duin eeeeere?" He leaned in close to the Padawan, who scooted away.  
  
"Being me," Anakin replied, his voice clear despite the mist around his mind. The Pilot's hearty laugh seemed to be part of the club's noise.  
  
"Oooo really? Sho where's tha Mashta o' yours, then?" He demanded, his eyes gleaming deep in the expanse of ruddy face. "I di sum piloting fo' im once. Broke down. He wash te only one shmall 'nuff to fit in th' engine bit. Sho he ben' ova and star-ed wavin is butt around. Coooor." The man rubbed his thighs appreciatively. Anakin listened with half an ear as the man got worked up about Obi-Wan, half a sneer on his face. The man continued obliviously. "Nicest bit 'o ass I ever watched. Cor, I'd love ta . . ." He trailed off and began to make body movements to show exactly what he'd like to do to Obi-Wan's ass. Sickened and annoyed at having to listen to someone else talking about his Master like that, Anakin stood and walked over to the bar. There was a small chuckle in his head.  
  
~Ex Master~ it reminded him. Yes, that was right. He no longer wanted Obi-Wan as his Master. He'd do all right on his own. He wouldn't give that bastard the satisfaction of leaving the Padawan; he'd renounce the Master first. ~After all, he's not even a very good Master. What did he ever teach you that you couldn't have learned by yourself?~ Yoda would pay, Palaani would pay, every single shit-for-brains kid in the temple that had laughed at him would pay. But most of all he was looking forward to making Obi-Wan Kenobi pay. With his blood, with his sanity, with everything he held dear.  
  
~With his life~  
  
Slamming down another drink at the bar he deposited a significant number of credits on the counter and stormed out the club, into the open air, with a renewed sense of purpose and hatred. As promised, the skies had opened and he was drenched to the bone within a matter of seconds, but he didn't care. He just didn't care.  
  
Reaching the deserted upper levels of Coruscant, he tipped up his head to the sky, letting the rain wash over his face, a malicious smile cracking his smooth features. He threw his hands behind his back and let out a primeval roar into the sky, revealing emotion and animal instincts. The shattering howl descended into laughter quickly, but it was not laughter of happiness, of joy. It was hateful, spiteful, evil.  
  
The malicious laugh of the corruption of the Dark Side. 


	6. Pride

Toxic Chapter 5: Pride  
  
He wandered aimlessly; having nowhere to go and not wanting a destination. He noticed, with some amusement, that the stares still followed him, but he gathered that it wasn't just his attitude receiving the glances this time. The fact that he was only wearing black leather pants and a thin white tunic and it was pouring down with rain all played a part too. Unconsciously, he found himself walking with his ex-Master's signature swagger: from the hips, shoulders swinging with underlying power (Even if, in Obi-Wan's case, it had been completely oblivious).  
  
He had often commented on Obi-Wan's walk in the past when he had been more trusting and naïve, more easily manipulated by his Master. Commented on how it made every female head, human or alien, turn as he strolled down the temple's corridors.  
  
He wiped every memory of happy times with Obi-Wan from his mind and focussed instead on every glare, every disapproving look and every sigh of annoyance given from his Master.  
  
~Always been a disappointment to you, haven't I, Master? Well, no longer.~ He thrust his hands into the pockets of the black pants, having to use extra force to push his hands into the water-tightened material as it hugged his body in the pouring rain. Wiggling his fingers, he found a small, thin, papery cylinder filled with some kind of fibrous, leafy substance. A grin lit his face.  
  
~Death Sticks~ Yanking the object out his pocket he stuffed one end into his mouth, simultaneously using the Force to heat up one end by blocking out the rain and rubbing the air particles together. He took a deep drag on one end as the other began to glow. He felt the rush of unquestioning reassurance rush through him as the drug began to take effect, and he flicked it to remove the ash accumulated. The question of how it got on his person and how it kept dry while in the pocket of his sopping, skintight pants remained unanswered, but as of yet it hadn't been asked.  
  
The swagger returned as he wandered onwards in the sheeting rain. Looming up ahead was the tall cast iron gates of a small commemorative garden and he wandered toward it aimlessly, noticing figures standing within its boundaries. Unashamed, he leaned carelessly on the edge of the gates and surveyed the scene in front of him, amusement written on his features.  
  
Ahead stood a small group of Padawans of Anakin's age stood, giggling happily, having had been a free evening for some kind of celebration. The group all seemed to be focused on a central person, whom Anakin couldn't see yet. The phrase 'Happy Birthday' was being thrown about in delighted voices. Suddenly, the group parted and the central person was revealed. The young man stood unknowingly directly in Anakin's line of sight.  
  
"Paleeni," Anakin hissed, contempt lacing his voice, caressing it. The man turned sharply and nervously tugged at his robes under Anakin's murderous gaze. He smiled tightly at the other Padawan before turning to his friends and telling them to go on without him. They did as he asked and moved on as a group, buzzing with chatter and excitement, leaving Anakin and Paleeni alone together in the gardens.  
  
"Hey, Anakin, man. How you doing?" he squeaked finally.  
  
"Cut it, Paleeni," Anakin snapped, "Why have you been spreading rumors about me?" Paleeni shifted from foot to foot anxiously, not meeting Anakin's eyes, not noticing the death stick and not seeing the bruise on Anakin's cheek.  
  
"Look, about that, Anakin, it's all a big mistake. I never . . ." He was cut off by Anakin stalking forward and staring down directly into Paleeni's face. He raised his eye-line up to meet Anakin's and was rewarded with a long stream of noxious smoke breathed directly into his face. Coughing, he stumbled backwards slightly. Anakin shouldered past him to walk towards a bench.  
  
"Really," he asked, his voice sarcastic. Bonelessly he sunk down onto the bench, swinging one leg up over the armrest and one arm over the top of the back. Lifting his face to the sky he inhaled another drag of the death stick and held it a few moments, twiddling with the remainder with his prosthetic hand. He blew it out leisurely, reveling in the looks given by the other Padawan. "Leave," he demanded to Paleeni, who spun on his heel and moved to do exactly that, before being stopped by a larger man who directly blocked his path. The shortish Padawan moved to one side only to find his movements matched by the other man. Anakin looked over dispassionately.  
  
"Look what we have here, lads," the man declared, holding Paleeni's shoulders to keep the young man still, "a couple of Snot-nosed Jedi kids." The man leaned down into Paleeni's face. "We don't like Jedi, do we boys?" Behind him there was a murmur in the affirmative from a group of approximately six other men, all as well built as the leading man. The bull like fist that smashed into Paleeni's face was completely unexpected, and confused as he was from Anakin's behavior, felt no warning from the Force.  
  
The sickening smack of flesh against flesh sounded again as the gang crowded round Paleeni. Anakin remained exactly where he was on the seat, only showing the slightest traces of interest at the violence occurring not ten feet from where he was sitting.  
  
~Help him!~ part of his mind screamed at him in desperation, but the more dominant part kept him seated exactly where he was, sprawled across the seat in the pouring rain, smoking. Paleeni's cries called out to Anakin frantically, begging him to help, but Anakin blocked him out.  
  
~What are you doing?~ His mind screamed, distressed. ~He's hurt! He's dying! You've got to help him!~ There was a pause in his mind, the only sound he could hear being the sodden thump of fists against flesh. ~You'll never be a Jedi Knight~ The voice whispered to him. ~You slaughtered all those Tuscan Raiders in cold blood, and now you're witnessing the murder of a fellow Padawan, and all you're doing is sitting, SMOKING~ Even in his mind, the voice sounded to Anakin to be disappointed.  
  
The cries silenced suddenly with a wet snap, which Anakin refused to acknowledge, and the group turned to look at Anakin with expectant expressions. Sighing, Anakin swung his leg back to the ground and stood slowly. He brought his head up last and met the eyes of the leader who looked at him with a strange gleam in his eyes.  
  
"Your buddies dead. Not so powerful now, are you, Jedi?" he declared triumphantly. Anakin rolled his eyes and blew out a breath-full of the illegal smoke into the man's face. Absently, he stuck the stick back into his mouth and, without touching the man, raised his metal hand and curled the fingers into a fist. The thug's eyes went wide and he clawed at his throat desperately, trying to remove some of the pressure around it to clear his airways, making pained gasping sounds. A slight movement of his other hand snapped the man's neck and he fell to the floor, dead.  
  
The rest of the gang of thugs took a step back, wide eyed, from Anakin before fleeing. The Padawan's laugh followed them as they ran.  
  
Flicking the butt of the death stick onto the body of the thug, Anakin stepped over it and swooped down to Paleeni's side, reaching out with the Force. There was a life sign there, but it was feint. Sighing, Anakin put out his hand and placed it on Palaani's forehead, helping the battered body to heal slightly. Hefting the form of the other Padawan up, Anakin strode out the gardens and waved down a speeder-taxi and put Paleeni's form in.  
  
"Jedi Temple. Healers ward. Go, Now!" Anakin barked. The driver looked slightly terrified for a brief second before tugging the credits away from Anakin's grasp and speeding off. Anakin watched him go with a shake of his head.  
  
Turning on his heel he stalked off again in the rain, running a hand through his wet hair absently, feeling the full effects of the drug kick in suddenly, a warm, comforting haze settle over his entire body, making every nerve, real or synthesized, tingle with a thrumming energy. He was aware of every single thing touching his body: the clinging leather and cloth, the braid falling across his chest, his boot clad feet heavy, the cool metal feel of his new lightsaber tucked into the waistband of his trousers at the back, the smooth handle pressing reassuringly against the bottom of his spine. Everything whispered across fiery nerves.  
  
The burst of energy when it came was welcomed. The pure power that flooded his limbs made Anakin feel awesome; needed. His strides became longer and quicker as they led him away from the gardens.  
  
Hurrum Shoom  
  
The breathing, this time, sliced through his mind with such violence that he stumbled and fell, clutching his head in agony, kneeling in the middle of the street on Coruscant, late at night, in the pouring rain, with a heart-wrenching moan.  
  
~Help me~ he whispered in his mind, hopelessly. In reply he felt a gentle touch on his mind from Obi-Wan and he sent back thanks before catching himself and slamming down his shields and sending a harsh rebuff to the Knight. Staggering to his feet he spun, his mind clear of the drug, and felt no surprise at seeing the figure of his Master standing, silhouetted in the rain against the yellow light of the street lamp.  
  
"Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered carefully. Anakin prowled forward to close the gap between them silently before standing in front of the older man.  
  
"Knight Kenobi," he replied politely, bowing slightly. Obi-Wan regarded him, his brow furrowing in confusion.  
  
"Anakin, what are you doing? You will return to the Temple with me immediately, Padawan," he informed, staring up at Anakin. The blow, when it connected to the side of Obi-Wan's head was completely unexpected, and he raised a hand to his temple with a hiss. Anakin glared at him sullenly.  
  
"Padawan? I no longer want you as a Master. I saw you talking to Yoda and Mace today. I know you want to get rid of me, so I'm saving you the hassle. I will make a request to the Council tomorrow for you to sever the training bond and halt all mentoring," Anakin hissed, watching Obi-Wan clutch his head, hurt in his green-blue eyes, sparkling in the lamplight.  
  
"And you are so sure I was talking to them about that, Anakin? You have no back up for that claim, and I deny it. I did not speak to Master Yoda and Master Windu regarding your training today," Obi-Wan replied quietly. Anakin felt his confidence falter slightly, before rage took over.  
  
"LIAR!" he roared, putting all his energy into shoving the Knight as hard as he could, before throwing his head back and curling his hands to fists by his sides. "You never wanted me! I hate you!" With that, Anakin pulled out his lightsaber from the waistband of his trousers and lighting it at Obi-Wan's throat.  
  
In defense, Obi-Wan danced backwards, out of the range of the humming blade, making a simultaneous ducking and sliding movement. Anakin slashed at him madly, power but no style in his strokes. Backing up, Obi-Wan half crouched in preparation as Anakin held the blade out, rage in his eyes. "Anakin, put down your lightsaber," Obi-Wan half commanded, half pleaded, his voice thick with confined emotion. A crowd began to gather behind Anakin, curious but a safe distance away, huddled together in the rain, watching the two Jedi. "Anakin, please. Put down your lightsaber," Obi-Wan repeated, holding his hand out.  
  
Anakin watched him carefully, the pair remaining perfectly still, half crouched, dripping and tense in the middle of one of Coruscant's walkways; a wall to one side and the rest of the street the other; speeders whizzing high overhead.  
  
A sneer flashing across his features briefly and he aimed a high slash at the top part of Obi-Wan's chest. In return, Obi-Wan dropped to his knees and rolled, passing under the deadly blade. He returned to his feet with his classic feline grace and cursed silently to find himself trapped against the wall. He was part way through working out how to use the wall to his advantage when he felt the heat of the lightsaber blade bared by the Padawan near his cheek. He raised his hands, palms outwards to Anakin, the angry red marks from the cuts inflicted from the glass that morning displayed to Anakin, who locked his eyes on Obi-Wan's. The resolve bled from Anakin's face.  
  
"Why won't you fight me, Master?" he asked, his voice sounding very young and helpless, his eyes boring deep into Obi-Wan's soul. Without breaking eye contact, Obi-Wan answered.  
  
"I will not raise my blade to you, Padawan mine," he murmured, "there would be no justification for it." The sneer returned to Anakin's face.  
  
"Then I will kill you," he declared, sweeping the blade behind him, ready to strike. But yet, Obi-Wan remained where he stood, palms up, eyes locked on his Padawan's.  
  
"So be it," he whispered gently.  
  
Anakin swung his blade. 


	7. Anger

Toxic Chapter 6: Anger  
  
Obi-Wan Kenobi closed his eyes and waited for the agony. The bitter, gut twisting pain that came with the blow from his Padawan's blade to his neck as they stood there in the programmed rain of Coruscant's top street level. The burning rip of pure energy as it coursed through his body, fueled by the wrath of one that he loved dearly. The death strike from his beloved Padawan.  
  
But closing his eyes didn't help. The Force screamed at him, desperately sending warnings to one of its brightest and best to move, defend, survive. He saw the blade swing in a high arc, making a direct, strong descent towards his neck and heard the gentle buzz of the energy of the actual weapon, close to his right ear as it sped closer and . . . stopped.  
  
Several moments passed, Obi-Wan feeling the close proximity of the blade to his body through the Force, his eyes still closed firmly. A small sound reached him suddenly and brought him back to his senses. He opened his turquoise eyes slowly, and the sight he saw broke his heart.  
  
Anakin stood before him, holding the lightsaber so close to Obi-Wan that the Knight could feel the heat from the glowing blade, his body in a perfect battle stance; rigid, defensive and slightly bent to give his arms the ultimate power he could manage. His face however was a study in misery. Despair and heartbreak fought for control in his cobalt eyes as they sparkled with unshed tears under the dim light, his features a picture of pure misery. He made quite an image there, under the rain.  
  
The small sound resonated again: a tiny moan of desperation as Anakin fought for control of his emotions and actions. Obi-Wan regarded him carefully, not moving at all, barely breathing. Just watching the struggle within the younger man. Without warning, Anakin seemed to crumble, letting the lightsaber tumble from his numb fingers, disengaging as it fell, missing the Knight's flesh and landing with a dull, wet click as it hit the stone below.  
  
Trembling slightly, Obi-Wan held his arms out to the younger man who stood across from him, watching him carefully, unsure but hopeful. Then, with a sob, he launched himself into the proffered arms and wrapped his own around the Knight desperately, clinging to Obi-Wan like a lifeline in the middle of a dark Ocean. Obi-Wan in return held the Padawan and murmured soothing, wordless mumblings to him, unaware of the tears sliding down his own face. Carefully, he slid down the wall behind him so they sat on the wet stone beneath them, Obi-Wan rocking Anakin like a frightened child all the way.  
  
"Master," Anakin sobbed, unable to say anything else. Obi-Wan dipped his head slightly to speak directly into Anakin's ear.  
  
"Shhh, Padawan. You're safe, you're here and I'm here. Shhh," He murmured, clutching the blonde head to his shoulder reassuringly, rocking. Anakin looked up sharply at him, swiping his real hand across his bloodshot, horrified eyes.  
  
"Padawan? I don't . . ." he mumbled, scrambling to his feet quickly and taking a step away from Obi-Wan and turned his back to him.  
  
"Yes, Ani? You don't . . ." Obi-Wan prompted, standing as well, albeit far more gracefully and slowly.  
  
"I don't deserve to be your Padawan," Anakin whispered, barely audible. "I've killed, Master. Murdered. Slaughtered innocent children to try and make myself feel better." Anakin stared at his hands, one real, one prosthetic. "I felt their blood on my hands, warm and thick and . . ."  
  
Obi-Wan's eyes bore into his back. "And what, Anakin?" he asked quietly.  
  
"And I relished it." There was a pregnant silence after Anakin's announcement, in which Obi-Wan simply stared at his hunched shoulders, expression unreadable.  
  
"Who, Anakin?" He asked finally. Slowly, the younger man turned so he could look upon his Master.  
  
"The Tuscan Raiders on Tatooine," he confessed sadly, staring at the floor, changing his mind against looking at Obi-Wan. The Knight sighed and ran a hand through his soaking hair, barely noticing that the rain had briefly stopped.  
  
"Would you do it again, Anakin?" Was his fearful question. The Padawan looked at the Knight sharply, staring deep into his eyes.  
  
"Yes. If it was for someone I cared enough for."  
  
"Your Mother," Obi-Wan deduced, speaking the words carefully. Anakin's expression didn't change as he moved closer to Obi-Wan, ignoring the statement.  
  
"If someone laid a finger on either Padme or you, I'd gladly hunt them down and make them pay with their own blood. Yes, I'd kill again."  
  
"The Tuscan Raiders killed your Mother so you went and killed them in return," Obi-Wan stated, watching for the reaction on Anakin, staring deep into the Padawan's eyes. On cue, Anakin's face twisted in anger and he pulled away from Obi-Wan's questioning gaze.  
  
"It's not fair! She died in my arms! In my arms! And I couldn't do anything about it! I felt so helpless!" he cried, throwing the arms he spoke of into the air and spinning away, his back facing Obi-Wan again.  
  
"I know," Obi-Wan whispered. Angered, Anakin spun back and glared at Obi-Wan.  
  
"No, No you don't! How could you? She died lying in my arms, Obi- Wan!" he almost screamed at the older man who in return sank back down to the pavement and stared of into the distance sadly.  
  
"It hurts, doesn't it? Having a parent die as you watch, helplessly . . ." he murmured, staring at the ground.  
  
"What?" Anakin questioned, slightly surprised and wary of the Knight's actions.  
  
"And you keep thinking 'If there's anything I can do, anything at all, I'll do it. I'd kill for this person, and I will' . . ." Obi-Wan continued obliviously, looking up at Anakin sadly. At that moment he looked much younger than his thirty-five years, much more innocent than any life the Jedi had given him. Confused, Anakin held his gaze.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"And then something else takes over. Love is a powerful emotion," Obi- Wan stated, curling in on himself, hugging his knees. Anakin stared at him, confused. Then realisation dawned on him and he sighed in enlightenment.  
  
"Qui-Gon . . ." he hissed, comprehending.  
  
"I see him die every time I close my eyes. We're not that different, you and I . . ." Obi-Wan declared quietly, uncurling and standing slowly, never breaking eye contact with the younger man.  
  
"I didn't realise, Master, I . . ." Anakin started frantically, but was cut off with a raised hand by Obi-Wan. Instead, he simply stared at the scarlet wounds crisscrossing the pale flesh.  
  
"I am proof that it is able to bring yourself away from the Dark Side, Padawan," he stated simply, offering the hand that he held up to Anakin. "But you've got to want to, Ani."  
  
"I watched Palaani being hurt seriously tonight, Master." He said, staring at the offered hand.  
  
"I am willing to continue teaching you, Padawan mine, if you're willing to keep me as your Master."  
  
"I didn't do anything to help him," Anakin mumbled, feeling tears spring back to his eyes.  
  
"The path from the Dark Side is hard and painful, Ani, but it is possible."  
  
"I hated him, Master," Anakin confessed, tearing his eyes away from Obi-Wan's outstretched hand and to his face. "Like I hated those Tuscan Raiders."  
  
"Come back to the temple with me, Ani. We both need sleep," Obi-Wan suggested, unmoving.  
  
~I can't go to sleep! The dreams, the breathing, it'll come back!~ Anakin's mind cried frantically, but outwards Anakin showed no sign of it. ~No need to worry him more, I suppose~ he rationalized. Instead he reached out his own hand, letting it hover over Obi-Wan's for several seconds. Around them, the Force paused.  
  
"Yes, Master," he breathed, letting his hand drop onto Obi-Wan's, lacing his fingers around his Master's, drawing reassurance and hope from the touch. Through the tears that slid down his face he smiled. "You know I married Padme, don't you?" he questioned. Gripping the Padawan's hand firmly, Obi-Wan grinned.  
  
"You think I'm clueless enough not to notice that?" he declared indignantly. "And it's a good thing I do already know, because this isn't really the best place for me to find out, is it now?" He nodded his head to the thinning crowd that surrounded them with a grin.  
  
"Oh, Sith. I completely forgot about our audience," Anakin cried, annoyed. Obi-Wan's smile widened.  
  
"Oh, how you doubt me, Padawan. I assure you, no one here with the exception of you and I will remember this tomorrow morning." Anakin nodded, glancing back at the floor. Concerned, Obi-Wan used a finger on his free hand to lift the Padawan's chin. "Anakin," he said, putting everything he felt into the one word. With a slight sob, Anakin wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan again.  
  
"I love you, Master," he whispered. "But I fear that will get you killed. I don't want to love, I just can't help it. And it gets people hurt."  
  
"Are you going to make the journey back to the light with me, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked carefully.  
  
"I'll try, Master."  
  
"Do or do not do, Padawan. There is no try," Obi-Wan informed with the assurance of one who has never learned anything but that.  
  
Anakin had no reply.  
  
The End  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
So, there you go. Thank you for making the journey through all this madness with me, everyone. . . sorry about the long wait for the final chapter, but thahanks for hanging in there, anyway. I appreciate it, I really do. What happens next if completely up to you; If you like AUs, then maybe Obi-Wan succeeded in pulling Anakin back to the light. If not, then Obi-Wan failed and Ep 3 followed, leading into the original trilogy. It's up to you. As the motto to Fanfiction.net says, Unleash your imagination and free your soul.  
  
Once again, thank you,  
  
Padawan AngelinaDaisey XXX 


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